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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22728448">A Fairytale Ending</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicalIdiot/pseuds/magicalIdiot'>magicalIdiot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Fluff, Humor, I’m not tagging every one of them, Pining, The musical theater AU you didn’t ask for, literally everyone is in this fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 16:49:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,836</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22728448</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicalIdiot/pseuds/magicalIdiot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ingrid auditions for a play on a whim. It has nothing to do with the super attractive girl she met at the org fair who was advertising the show. Nothing at all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Felix Hugo Fraldarius &amp; Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea &amp; Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bread Eaters</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Fated Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingDragon/gifts">ProcrastinatingDragon</a>.</li>



    </ul><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ingrid attends an org fair. What could go wrong with trying something new?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Free soda! Come learn about Medieval History Society!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take a flyer and a piece of candy! Join Film Club— movies every week!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know you’ve always wanted to be in Sailing Club. Step right up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chorus of cheerful shouts rings out around Ingrid as she meanders down the crowded street, lazily glancing around from table to table. She’s not quite as eager as the freshmen students are— picking up pamphlets from every table, nodding attentively as each club rep gives their spiel— but she isn’t apathetic, either. She’s probably the only sophomore at the fall student org fair, but she has decided not to go back to Fencing Club this year, so she’s looking for something else to fill her time. She’s already in the Horseback Riding club, of course, but they only meet once a week because the horses are kept pretty far from campus, so it’s too much of an ordeal to get out to the barn on a weekday. With Felix and Sylvain newly dating and Dimitri intensely committed to his studies, Ingrid doesn’t have a lot of friends to hang out with, so it will be nice to meet new people, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span>, this fair is just a little bit annoying. If one more person aggressively waves a handout in Ingrid’s face, she might just punch them in the jaw. No hard feelings, but it’s starting to get on her nerves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My, my, you look just a teensy bit upset. Care to sit down and chat?” An enchantingly beautiful voice floats over to Ingrid, and her head snaps towards the source instantly. The girl who’d spoken is sitting behind a table with one empty chair. The banner on the table reads “Garreg Mach Theater Troupe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Figuring this person is the nicest one Ingrid has come across all day, Ingrid shrugs and says, “Sure, if you want that. What are you trying to sell me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, darling, I’m not selling you anything. I’m looking for people interested in theater, but if that’s not you, then you shouldn’t join. You’d be miserable doing something you don’t even enjoy,” the girl says with a kind smile. The girl’s gentle words and sincere gaze are refreshing, given the smarmy recruiters Ingrid has talked to so far. The girl gestures to the chair next to her, and Ingrid sits down. “I’m Dorothea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ingrid. Nice to meet you,” Ingrid says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorothea’s eyes widen, and she falls silent for a moment. “Are you friends with Sylvain Gautier, by chance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid groans. Figures she’d cross paths with one of his many freshman year flings. “Yes, and I’m sorry for whatever he did to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorothea giggles. “No, no, that’s not it. Sylvain definitely gets himself into all sorts of trouble all the time, but not with me. He’s a member of the theater troupe, that’s all. We’re friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Friends.” Ingrid sighs in relief internally. Sylvain doesn’t talk about his life all that much with her because he knows she’ll scold him for his bad decisions, so Ingrid doesn’t know his friends all that well. “Well, that definitely makes things easier. I thought you might’ve been—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—one of his exes? I don’t blame you for that. I’d guess the same of you if I didn’t already know that you’re one of his closest friends.” Dorothea smiles, and for some unfathomable reason, Ingrid feels heat rising to her cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would never date Sylvain. That would be gross,” Ingrid said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Likewise. Men aren’t worth all the trouble, anyway, when such beautiful women exist.” Dorothea winks, and Ingrid immediately understands why she and Sylvain are friends. “So, Ingrid, what brings you to the fall org fair? You don’t usually see sophomores around here unless they’re tabling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was in Fencing Club last year, but it’s not really my thing.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Especially after Glenn died and I couldn’t pick up a foil without thinking about him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Ingrid thinks, and she struggles to keep a straight face. “I was looking for something else to try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you’re interested, we have auditions for our fall musical next week,” Dorothea says, sliding a handbill across the table. “No experience necessary. We’re a pretty small club, so you’ll probably be cast if you try out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid tucks the handbill into her purse. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything else caught your attention?” Dorothea asks, looking out at the tables lining the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really. Everything seems so…” Ingrid struggles to find the right word. She wants to try some of the activities she’s seen, but they all seem so… restrictive, maybe? “I’m in Horseback Riding club, and I love it because it makes me feel free. Everything I’ve seen seems like it would make me feel trapped instead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Performing can be pretty freeing. You get up on that stage and you’re someone else entirely, and you can do whatever you want and it’s not you.” Dorothea has a faraway look in her gaze, and Ingrid forced herself to stop staring at those beautiful marble green eyes of this girl she’s just met, and oh god, she’s being rude now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>look away</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds wonderful,” Ingrid says, suddenly very aware of how warm and undoubtedly red her face is. Curse her pale northerner skin for being a dead giveaway to her emotions at any point in time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the best feeling in the world, but I’m also a vocal performance major, so take what I say with a grain of salt,” Dorothea says, smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sing </span>
  <em>
    <span>opera</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Ingrid asks in awe, wondering again how Sylvain possibly knows someone so cool. Ingrid has only been to one opera in her life, when she was really young, but she remembers the melodic voices of the singers, hitting high notes with grace and pride. “That’s so cool. I didn’t even know that was a major here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a very small major. I’m one of ten students in my year. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I love singing,” Dorothea says, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Oh, but you shouldn’t let that discourage you. Anyone can perform, no matter their training or talent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know about that,” Ingrid says, crossing her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll see if you audition. It just tumbles out of you,” Dorothea says, a cocky smile on her face. She glances down at her phone on the table and sighs. “Well, it’s been a nice chat, but I ought to get back to tabling. Got to grab the freshmen, you know? Tell Sylvain he better text me back if he wants to live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid laughs as she stands up and pushes her chair in. “I’ll let him know. He’s been kind of busy lately.” With Felix, but that was a new development, and not one Ingrid wants to ruin by publicizing it. Glenn’s death the summer before college had destabilized all of her friends’ lives, and this is the first time she’s seen Sylvain and Felix </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span> in over two years. She isn’t about to ruin it. “Don’t be too hard on him. He’s been behaving himself, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t,” Dorothea says, although her eyes were full of mischief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, um, see you around,” Ingrid says with a wave. She kicks herself mentally for being so awkward. Luckily, Dorothea is too kind to say anything, instead nodding and waving back as Ingrid walks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid’s heart flutters as she walks past the remaining tables. She doesn’t even read their signs. For the first time in a while, she has something to look forward to.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The WLW Apartment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Sylvain gets insulted by everyone.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sylvain is at Mercedes’ place when he gets a flurry of text messages from Dorothea, all at once. Sure, he’s been a bit bad at responding to his texts recently— Felix has been a bit distracting, what with sorting out trauma and all— but Dorothea isn’t usually so impatient with him. She (and all his friends, really) fully embrace his position as the screw-up and have impossibly low expectations for him. So getting so many texts from Dorothea is unusual.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Dorothea</b>
  <span>: Sylvain Jose Gautier</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <b>Dorothea</b>
  <span>: How DARE you have such an adorable friend and keep her from me</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <b>Dorothea</b>
  <span>: Ingrid is an absolute treasure</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <b>Sylvain</b>
  <span>: is this adorable like cute or adorable like I would fuck her</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <b>Dorothea</b>
  <span>: I’m not answering that</span>
  <span></span><br/>

  <b>Sylvain</b>
  <span>: okay so you’re interested in her then, I can work with that</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <b>Dorothea</b>
  <span>: If you ruin this for me, I will ask Mercie to help me skin you alive, and she’ll help me. You know she will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain looks up from his phone and turns to Mercedes, who is knitting something as they watch a shitty TV show together. “Hey, Mercedes. Would you help Dorothea skin me alive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes hums noncommittally. “It depends on the circumstances, but knowing you, you probably deserve it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain winces. “Ouch, that’s cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But is it wrong?” Mercedes asks, not even looking at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain sighs. “You got me there. So, Ingrid and I have been kind of out of contact for a bit. Do you think she’s a lesbian?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes laughs. “For someone who spends so much time around girls—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—spent, past tense—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—you’re awfully dense. This is the women-loving-women apartment. The only reason you’re allowed here is because none of us would ever be interested in you,” Mercedes says evenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geez, is it beat-up-Sylvain day?” Sylvain whines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every day is a good day to beat up Sylvain,” Leonie calls from the kitchen. Sylvain questions why he isn’t still at home, curled up in bed with Felix. At least Felix would be nice to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, that’s not really true. The only one of Sylvain’s friends who doesn’t insult him endlessly is probably Bernadetta.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, you guys are being so mean to him!” Annette says, and Sylvain might have hugged her if she wasn’t curled up on the other side of Mercedes. “He might deserve it, but you can still be nice about ripping him apart!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, scratch that, no hug for Annette. “Okay, okay, I get it, I’m a despicable human being. Can we focus on the fact that I am actually in a stable relationship right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With Felix fucking Fraldarius of all people,” Leonie snorted, walking over to the sofa with a bowl of chili in her hands. She sits down on the floor at the foot of the sofa, propping her feet up on the coffee table like the heathen that she is. She’s eating her chili with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fork</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for goodness sake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we are both </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That has to count for something, right?” Sylvain points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A single drop of good in the sea of Sylvain’s sins,” Leonie says haughtily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain puts his head in his hands. “There’s no convincing any of you, is there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Annette says cheerfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” adds Leonie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re a good person some of the time, Sylvain. As long as there’s no cute girls involved,” Mercedes says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck all of you,” Sylvain mutters, and he’s eternally grateful to hear the door to the apartment swing open and slam shut. “Ingrid! Save me from your roommates, please!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You probably deserve whatever they’ve done to you,” Ingrid says dismissively, swinging over the arm of the couch to sit next to Sylvain. Sylvain’s eyes are immediately drawn to the bright pink pamphlet sticking out of her purse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, are you joining the theater troupe this semester? We could really use more actors,” Sylvain says, completely ignoring Ingrid’s annoyed look as she stuffs the pamphlet farther into her purse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annette squeals. “You should totally join, Ingrid! It’ll be so much fun! And you’re such a good singer. You’d be amazing on stage!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, uh, I was thinking about auditioning,” Ingrid stutters, her face flushing red. Sylvain takes note of the way Ingrid is suddenly very, very flustered. Interesting, interesting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should give it a shot. Sounds like fun,” Leonie says through a mouthful of chili, sophisticated as always.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sylvain was just trying to convince me to do costume design again. The play they’re trying to pull off this semester is quite ambitious,” Mercedes says cheerfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never auditioned for anything before, though. I don’t know if I’ll be good enough,” Ingrid says, and Sylvain wishes that Ingrid had as much confidence in her skills as she has in her ideals. Ingrid is, without sugar coating, a magnificent singer, and always has been. She used to sing lullabies to Dimitri and Felix when they were young and belt dumb musicals at the top of her lungs with Glenn while they fenced. The number of times Sylvain heard “I’ll Make a Man Out of You” while he was younger was ridiculous. But sometimes Ingrid just needs a little push in the right direction. Glenn was that push for a long time, but now… well, let nobody say that Sylvain couldn’t be kind every once in a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll audition if you do, Ing. I usually work tech, but I’m willing to try something new. Maybe I’ll be the dashing knight in shining armor,” Sylvain says, posing dramatically for effect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, right. You’re more likely to be the damsel in distress,” Leonie says, rolling her eyes. Ingrid snickers, and Mercedes full-on laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it works. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll audition.” Ingrid says finally. And while Annette and Mercedes are excitedly discussing which part would be perfect for Ingrid, Sylvain shoots off a text to Bernadetta asking for a favor.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Audition Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ingrid goes out on a limb and auditions. It isn’t completely terrible.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ingrid spends hours practicing the audition cuts. She’s just a beginner— she’ll be lucky if they cast her— so she learns the chorus part. Sylvain promises to audition, too, so she drags him off to her room to practice with her. Of course, he would never work so hard on his own, but Ingrid has long since mastered the art of bullying Sylvain into doing things for his own good, so he practices the audition scenes with her until they both have a good handle on the characters and the language of the play.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The play itself is a student-written production, although you would hardly be able to tell. The writing is so rich, the dialogue witty, the plot twists well-placed and intriguing. As a lit major, Ingrid can’t help but admire the composition of the script, or at least the three scenes that have been released for auditions. The musical appears to have your typical fantasy plot: two knights in shining armor compete to see who can save a maiden in a tower. Ingrid likes the idea of being in a tale alongside valiant, chivalrous knights like the ones in the fairy tales she read as a child. She’d love to be one of the knights, but… well, there’s no way they’d cast a new person as a lead, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day of the audition arrives, and Ingrid can hardly focus on her classes that day. The words on the page are jittering in front of her as her leg bounces up and down under her desk, and she feels lightheaded. She practically runs to the theatre building after her classes are over, following the directions Sylvain had texted her to the audition room. The auditions are being held in a small black box theater tucked away in the back of the building. Ingrid knows she’s at the right place because the gentle murmur of the hallways grows to a dull roar as she approaches the room. The door is propped open with a stage weight, and the room is… ridiculously empty. Ingrid expects an army inside given the sheer magnitude of the chatter, but there are only a handful of very loud students inside, Sylvain included. Ingrid’s gaze falls on Dorothea, dressed flawlessly in a cute summer dress and beret, and her stomach drops. She is so outclassed here, it’s foolish to even try—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ingrid! You came!” Dorothea waves to her, and Ingrid steels her nerves, swallows her panic, and walks over to the corner of the room where she and Sylvain are talking to a very loud, animated person with orange hair. “This is Ferdinand. Ferdie, this is Ingrid. She’s going to be our next big star,” Dorothea says with a wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid laughs nervously. “We’ll see about that. It’s nice to meet you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am Ferdinand von Aegir, and the pleasure is all mine,” Ferdinand declares, taking Ingrid’s hand in a very firm handshake. Dorothea rolls her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ferdie is studying government and business, although you’d hardly be able to tell. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>belongs</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the theater,” Dorothea says, nudging Ferdinand with her elbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand shakes his head. “That may be so, Dorothea, but I have a duty to my family and to our customers to carry on Aegir Industries,” he says, although not nearly as bitterly as Ingrid might have expected. She catches the flash of resentment that passes through Sylvain’s normally unbothered expression. “And besides, I find the study of government quite intriguing. There are so many ways to organize a nation, and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—and we are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing this today,” Dorothea says firmly, silencing Ferdinand immediately with her piercing gaze. “So, Ing, I hear you ran Sylvain here through the ringer and actually made him practice?” Ingrid nods, embarrassment flushing her cheeks. “Good. He deserves it, especially with how he’s always barely good enough to get cast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea, please,” Sylvain whines, and Dorothea ignores him completely. Ingrid thinks she might have found her new favorite person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s infuriating how well Sylvain does in auditions without even a bit of practice,” Dorothea says, and Ingrid nods. Between Felix “I will fence until I’m better than my brother” Fraldarius, Dimitri “I will not stop until I’ve mastered this move” Blaiyyd, and Sylvain “I’ll get it right on my first try” Gautier, Ingrid has always had a rough time trying to convince herself that she’s good at anything. All of her friends are perfectionists and idiots, and she can never hold a candle up to any of them. This was the first time in years that she felt free to even try because if there was one thing she’d learned while practicing with Sylvain, it was that he was a natural born actor and a smooth dancer, but he could not for the life of him carry a tune. Ingrid smiles at the thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what you mean,” Ingrid says as casually as she can. “What about you, Dorothea? Aren’t you majoring in vocal performance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dorothea is a natural as well! Her voice is like nothing you have ever heard before,” Ferdinand boasts, clapping Dorothea on the back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorothea’s lips quirk up into a smile. “Thank you, Ferdie, but you’re too kind. I practice hours every day in my classes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you are always practicing in the shower,” a girl who Ingrid doesn’t recognize says as she walks by, her gorgeous three inch heel combat boots clacking against the tile floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Petra is correct. Your showers always sound quite lovely,” Ferdinand adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorothea sighs, but before she can respond, three loud claps echo through the room, followed by a sing-song voice shouting, “Stop talking if you want to get cast!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room falls silent and turns towards the source of the voice and claps, a professor and a grad student standing at the front of the classroom. The professor is wearing a sweeping white robe and dramatic orange eyeshadow. Next to her, a far blander and younger person in an argyle sweater and slacks stares blankly into the crowd with their piercing gaze. The dramatic professor chuckles. “That one always works. Hello, everyone, and welcome to auditions for </span>
  <em>
    <span>A Fairytale Ending</span>
  </em>
  <span>! My name is Dr. Casagranda, but you can call me Manuela, and this is Dr. Eisner. We are the faculty sponsors for the theater troupe, and we’ll be helping run auditions today.” Dr. Eisner gives a wave but remains expressionless, leading Ingrid to wonder how they were sponsoring an acting troupe. “If you brought a resume or headshot, please hand those to Dr. Eisner. Otherwise, we’ll split you into three groups so we can run dance, music, and acting auditions simultaneously…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The auditions proceed in a whirlwind of activity. Ingrid is whisked away to fill out a quick resume-like form and take a picture against a white wall, and then she’s sent to acting auditions. A quick skim of the others in the room tells her that she isn’t in the same group as anyone she recognizes. Dr. Eisner and a small, purple-haired girl pair them up and hand out scenes for them to read, and Ingrid and her various partners read and are re-paired and read again and before she knows it, they’re all being shepherded off to another room for the dance auditions. The fuchsia-haired girl— Petra— leads them through a simple dance to judge their dancing ability, and Ingrid is thankful for her martial arts and fencing training in that moment. She thinks she does better than most people at performing the new choreography with poise and dignity, although there’s one person with dark purple hair who is astonishingly graceful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, it’s time for singing auditions. Ingrid is sent with a few other students to wait outside a smaller classroom. Dorothea is waiting outside the classroom alone, so Ingrid stands next to her with a nervous smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll do great,” Dorothea whispers, taking Ingrid’s hand and squeezing it. Ingrid’s cheeks flush red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Ingrid whispers back, looking away to avoid her blush becoming even more obvious. “I’m sure you will, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The classroom door opens, and Dorothea mock salutes to Ingrid before walking inside. After a few seconds, Ingrid shamelessly peers through the small rectangular window on the door. The walls of the room aren’t soundproofed well, and Ingrid can hear voices talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorothea opens her mouth to sing, and suddenly, Ingrid understands what it feels like to fly. Dorothea’s voice soars, and Ingrid soars with it, through open blue skies and over grassy fields. She has only felt this way occasionally when riding a horse through the forest, absorbed by the sounds of the creek rushing over stones and leaves rustling in the slight breeze. When Dorothea finishes her song, Ingrid is left with an unquenchable thirst for… something, she doesn’t know what. She wants to feel the happiness that she sees in Dorothea’s smile— no, not happiness, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>freedom</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Freedom to do what she wants, to be what she is, to let it all go and claim it as her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorothea gives Ingrid a wink as she walks out the room, and Ingrid walks in with a sense of ease that doesn’t fit her experience level. She sets her sheet music on the floor, stands in the center of the room, faces Dr. Casagranda, and sings. She imagines the vast skies and sunny fields of Dorothea’s voice, the rivers and trees of her best horseback rides, the clean strikes and quick parries of a fencing match. At the end of her piece, she feels good. She doesn’t know how she sounded, or if she impressed the professor, but that doesn’t matter to her. She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>free</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Sylvain’s An Asshole</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Ingrid debates whether Sylvain is more useful dead or alive.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you came here for Sylvix, here it is.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ingrid wakes up two mornings later to a ridiculous number of text messages. She responds to them as she’s brushing her teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Sylvain</b>
  <span>: dorothea asked for your number so I gave it to her, you’re welcome ;)</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Ingrid</b>
  <span>: I don’t know what you’re implying here but I’m ignoring it</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Sylvain</b>
  <span>: mhm okay</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Sylvain</b>
  <span>: also check your email you dummy</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Ingrid</b>
  <span>: There’s only one dummy between the two of us and it’s not me.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>WLW APARTMENT HOES</b>
  <b>
    <br/>
  </b>
  <b>Annette</b>
  <span>: GUYS GUYS THE CAST LIST IS OUT</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Mercedes</b>
  <span>: Ooh, wow, they work fast!</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Annette</b>
  <span>: I won’t say anything until I know Ingrid has read it because I don’t want to spoil that for her but! It’s exciting!!!</span>
</p><p>
  <b>1-982-705-1050</b>
  <span>: Hi Ingrid, this is Dorothea! I got your number from Sylvain. I’m excited to be working with you</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid… guesses this means she’s been cast in the show? She quickly adds Dorothea’s number to her phone and then checks her email with an eerie calm that she shouldn’t have. She opens an email aptly titled “A Fairytale Ending Cast List” and nearly drops her phone in the sink. Oh, she’s been cast, all right, but this… there is no </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> this is real.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Ingrid</b>
  <span>: SYLVAIN</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Ingrid</b>
  <span>: SYLVAIN DID YOU DO THIS</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Sylvain</b>
  <span>: ?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Sylvain</b>
  <span>: I didn’t do shit, as usual</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Sylvain</b>
  <span>: you’re actually just talented</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Sylvain</b>
  <span>: are you sure that I’m the dummy between the two of us? ;)</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Ingrid</b>
  <span>: FUCK</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Ingrid</b>
  <span>: I’VE NEVER BEEN IN A PLAY BEFORE SYLVAIN</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Ingrid</b>
  <span>: AREN’T THE KNIGHTS THE LEADS??? OF THE PLAY???</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Sylvain</b>
  <span>: calm down, ingrid. you’re like, a natural knight. you’ll do great!</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Sylvain</b>
  <span>: there’s literally no one else i’d think of to play a knight</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deep breaths. Deeeeeeep breaths. Ingrid puts her phone down on the counter and splashes her face with water. Okay. So she’s been cast in the show as one of the two leads. And the other lead is Dorothea, who is an amazing singer and is super experienced and there is </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> way Ingrid is going to do anything but drag Dorothea down, because how is she supposed to measure up to that kind of brilliance?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, no, that was quitter talk, and she isn’t doing any more of that. This is her chance to turn over a new leaf, try something new, get away from the funk she’d been in since Glenn’s accident— the two-year-long, never-ending funk. And this will be fun, right? Ingrid loves reading fantasy stories; it was part of the reason she’d decided to study medieval literature. And sure, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual</span>
  </em>
  <span> medieval period isn’t nearly as romantic or flawless as the fairy tales she’d read when she was little, but it’s still super cool. Sylvain is right: nobody knows more about knights than she does. Plus, maybe her fencing background will be useful here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gives the cast list one more glance and spots Sylvain’s name in an unexpected place.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Ingrid</b>
  <span>: You motherfucker.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Ingrid</b>
  <span>: You never even intended to audition, did you?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Sylvain</b>
  <span>: hehe, nope! hard to be in a play you’re the assistant director for</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Sylvain</b>
  <span>: but c’mon, Ingrid, I’ve read the whole script, and you’re perfect for it</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Ingrid</b>
  <span>: You still owe me.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Sylvain</b>
  <span>: ok, ok, dinner tonight to celebrate? I’ll pay</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Ingrid</b>
  <span>: Fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Ingrid</b>
  <span>: Thanks, Dorothea! I’m really excited to be working with you, too. A little nervous though.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Dorothea</b>
  <span>: Don’t worry, sweetie, You’re perfect for the role. Dashing, charming, and righteous to boot!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid is now blushing furiously. She doesn’t know what to say to that. What do you say to that? Is there even a good response here? But she can’t just leave Dorothea hanging because that would make it seem like she’s not interested in being friends with her, which she is! Completely!</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Ingrid</b>
  <span>: Haha, we’ll see. I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow, right?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Dorothea</b>
  <span>: Yup, see you then &lt;3</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid lowers her phone, and for the first time, it dawns on her that she might have a very, very big crush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain forgot to mention two important things when he arranged to meet with Ingrid for dinner that night:</span>
</p><ol>
<ol>
<li><span>Felix would be there.</span></li>
</ol>
</ol><p> </p><ul>
<li><em><span>Dorothea</span><span> would be there.</span></em></li>
</ul><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ingrid doesn’t mind Felix’s presence, and honestly, she hasn’t seen him in a while anyway, so it will be nice to talk to him again. She fights with Felix a lot, but never in a way that jeopardizes their relationship. That was just how they were, and that wasn’t going to change. Ingrid had guessed that Sylvain might bring Felix along, anyway, because the two were practically inseparable nowadays.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorothea, however, was a different matter. Ingrid plans to recruit Mercedes to help her make Sylvain suffer for this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ingrid, dear, you look radiant as always,” Dorothea says as Ingrid walked into the very low class, practically fast food Faerghus barbecue joint that she and Sylvain frequent. Ingrid would be flattered if she wasn’t wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. In fact, the stunning one here is really Dorothea, who has elected to wear a cute frilly maroon blouse with black slacks and red pumps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Th-thanks,” Ingrid stutters, looking away before Dorothea can see the heat rising in her cheeks. “Congrats on getting the role.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too, darling. I’m really excited for this production,” Dorothea says warmly. Ingrid wishes at that moment that she could convince her brain that the butterflies in her stomach are due to hunger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heya, Ing, you made it,” Sylvain greets, an innocent smile on his face. Ingrid resists the urge to yell at him then and there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go tell the host that we’re all here so we can be seated,” Dorothea offers, and walks up to the podium where a group of waiters are gathered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix snorts as Dorothea walks away. “I take it Sylvain didn’t give you all the details?” he says, reading Ingrid’s baffled expression clearly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. No, he did not,” Ingrid says through gritted teeth, turning on Sylvain. “What is the meaning of this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain shrugs. “I was hanging out with Dorothea, said I was going to dinner with you, and she asked to come along. There’s no harm in it, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sylvain, you’re a fool,” Felix says bitingly, surprising Ingrid. She hadn’t expected Felix’s support in this particular matter. Then again, Felix never really passed up a moment to jab at Sylvain, so maybe he didn’t really know what was going on here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid spots Dorothea waving at them from across the room and sighs. “Looks like they’re ready to seat us,” she says glumly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweet. Let’s go,” Sylvain says, and Felix gives Ingrid a sympathetic look— or as close to it as he gets— as they walk over to where Dorothea is waiting patiently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The four of them get seated in a booth. Felix and Sylvain sit next to each other, which means Ingrid is stuck sitting next to Dorothea. She’s jittery as she slides into the booth next to Dorothea, faintly aware of the floral scent of Dorothea’s perfume. Oh, Seiros, she is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to make it through this night. On the bright side, she’s sitting across from Felix, so she doesn’t have to look at Sylvain’s insufferable face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Felix,” Dorothea says, after they’ve all ordered their food— Ingrid was somewhat embarrassed to order so much in front of Dorothea, but Sylvain was paying, so this was revenge. Dorothea leans forward almost like a predator on the hunt for answers. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time. Sylvain never says anything about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Classic Sylvain,” Ingrid says sourly, giving him a pointed look. Sylvain either doesn’t see it or ignores it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So. How did you come to date someone as insufferable as Sylvain?” Dorothea continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, whoa, now hold on, Dorothea. I might be insufferable, but I don’t hold a candle to Felix. He’s worse than I am,” Sylvain protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a cocky bastard who never gives a straight answer. At least I tell it like it is,” Felix retorts, a light scowl on his face. It’s the closest Felix gets to smiling, really, and Ingrid is glad to see him genuinely happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain and Felix continue to argue in a not-romantic-but-really-romantic way, and Ingrid watches it with the fondness of someone who has been around both of them for most of her life. Dorothea nods, somehow understanding something from their pointless banter. “I see it now. One idiot deserves another,” she whispers just so Ingrid can hear, and Ingrid snickers quietly. It’s kind of incredible how quickly Dorothea had figured them out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The waiter brings bread to their table as the boys continue bickering. Ingrid resists the urge to stuff an entire bread roll in her mouth, instead tearing it into smaller pieces like Dorothea does. Dorothea enjoys the banter for a little while longer before finally clearing her throat. “It’s good to see that you both get along well. But Felix, I’m curious… I want to know more about you. What do you study?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kinesthesiology and business,” Felix answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, are you an athlete?” Dorothea asks, and then shakes her head. “Wait, of course. Fencing. I can’t believe I forgot, Sylvain has mentioned it before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix and Ingrid exchange a look. It was one thing to know that Sylvain had once fenced, or that Felix fenced now, but there was so much more to know— the Miklan incident, the Glenn accident, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dimitri</span>
  </em>
  <span> incident— and Ingrid didn’t want to get into any of that tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Felix is pretty athletic, actually. Practically always at the gym training. He was en route to be an Olympic gymnast at one point,” Sylvain teases, and Felix glares daggers at him but says nothing. He does, however, lightly kick Ingrid under the table in what is mutually recognized between the two of them as a call for help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid sighs and bites her lip. Time to take a bullet for Felix. “I was also a gymnast when I was younger,” she admits. “That’s how I met Felix, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorothea squeals. “I can imagine it now: baby Ingrid, with little blond pigtails and in a leotard, face fixed in a determined expression--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the cute little temper tantrums after falling off the beam,” Sylvain adds with a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, so I was a cutesy little gymnast!” Ingrid says a little too loudly, her face flushed red. “That’s all in the past. I didn’t want to be a cutesy little girl, so I quit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then you did horseback riding instead,” Sylvain points out, stifling a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I lived on a farm, okay? Horseback riding was cheap because I already had a horse. Gymnastics lessons were not,” Ingrid fires back. From the corner of her eyes, she spots Dorothea giggling and relaxes a little. If Dorothea was having fun, it was fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you and Felix met through baby gymnastics,” Dorothea says, gesturing between Felix and Ingrid. “And Felix and Sylvain met… how?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t remember life before Felix,” Sylvain says dramatically, and Felix smacks him on the arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid rolls her eyes. “Their dads were both representatives in Congress for neighboring districts, and they had the same nanny.” Along with Dimitri, whose father had been president at the time, but Ingrid wasn’t stupid enough to discuss Dimitri in front of Felix in a public place. “My father was a representative, too, but that was only for a single term.” And then he’d been too poor to campaign again, and it had been just as well, for their home district really needed a miracle to pull it out of poverty. But again, not something Dorothea needed to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, that’s so cute! You really </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> remember life before Felix, then,” Dorothea says with a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s been insufferable,” Felix says, and anyone else might think that he’s annoyed, but Ingrid can sense the fondness underneath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s adorable,” Dorothea coos, and Felix kicks Ingrid under the table again. Okay, time for tactic number two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Dorothea, we’ve told you about ourselves, but you haven’t said much about yourself. How did you come to be a vocal performance major?” Ingrid asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorothea sighs. “It’s not all that interesting. I grew up in the foster child system, so I wasn’t going to get to go to college unless I had a full ride. Luckily, I have a pretty voice, so I was able to get scholarships to go to school for opera.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to be an opera singer?” Ingrid asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, sure. I enjoy opera. It’s not the most stable career, though, and a girl’s gotta eat,” Dorothea answers nonchalantly as she puts a small piece of bread in her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Singers get all the ladies, though,” Sylvain says with a wink, eliciting a groan from Dorothea and a jab in the ribs from Felix.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not all about the ladies, Sylvain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Some</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us aren’t rich and need a reliable job,” Dorothea says. It sounds like she’s joking, but there’s an unmistakable anger in her gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain doesn’t get a chance to respond because the waiter comes by with their food-- a salad for Dorothea, a burger for Sylvain, and a giant plate of wings for Ingrid and Felix. Dorothea is the only one who takes the time to unfold her napkin and grab her silverware; Felix digs in immediately without any sense of manners, and so does Sylvain. Ingrid at least tucks her napkin under her chin before going for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the rest of the meal, Ingrid notices that the fire never once leaves Dorothea’s eyes.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. First Rehearsal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sylvain didn’t stop being an asshole. And everyone else shows up, too.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“All right, everyone, make a circle on stage, please!” Sylvain’s annoyingly perfect voice echoes through the auditorium with perfect resonance, silencing the group of students almost instantly. Ingrid follows the crowd up the steps and to the stage, where a very confident Sylvain and a much less confident purple-haired girl are standing. The circle naturally forms around the two of them. Ingrid spots Mercedes and Annette and sits down near them. Dorothea waves from across the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, thank you all for participating in this production of </span>
  <em>
    <span>A Fairytale Ending</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m your host, Sylvain,” Sylvain says with a wink, triggering a couple of laughs. Ingrid just rolls her eyes, having heard most of Sylvain’s jokes before. “Bernadetta wrote this wonderful script you’re about to receive, and Professor Manuela and I worked together to write the score. It’s still a work in progress, so things might shift a little as we work through the show.” Sylvain hands a stack of scripts to Ingrid, and Bernadetta hands another stack to Dorothea. “Pass the scripts around to your right, please, and make sure everyone gets one.” Ingrid plucks a script from the top of the stack and hands them off to Mercedes, to her right. Sylvain keeps talking. “So, as you can see, this play has about 20 people working on it, about half and half for tech and acting. It’s going to take everyone pitching in to get this musical off the ground, so I hope you’re all ready to have some fun and get to know each other!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Sylvain finishes his spiel, they go around the circle and introduce themselves to each other. Dorothea’s friend Ferdinand is an evil henchman by the same name, making Ingrid wonder if his casting was ever a question at all. Ingrid recognizes Lorenz from auditions— he had been a very graceful dancer, so she isn’t surprised to find that he’s been cast as the damsel in distress, Lady Lilac. Then there’s Dorothea and herself, of course, as the knights sent to rescue Lilac: Sir Cedric and Sir Cecil. The villain keeping Lilac in the tower is the scheming Wizard, played by someone named Claude. Two of the other new members to the club, Ashe and Marianne, are in the ensemble along with Annette and Hilda. Hilda and Ashe seem friendly enough, but Marianne looks like she just wants to run and hide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s almost as many technicians as there are actors. Aside from Petra, Bernadetta, and Sylvain, there’s Cyril, the very short and very stern stage manager; Linhardt, the sleepy and nonchalant lights operator; Caspar, the complete opposite of Linhardt in disposition, as the sound operator; Mercedes, the costume designer, although Ingrid already knew that because she’d done costumes for all of the troupe’s shows last year as well; Ignatz, the meek set designer; and Raphael, the way too enthusiastic fly operator. Dr. Casagranda is conducting the orchestra, and Dr. Eisner is producing the show. Ingrid has no idea how she’s going to remember all these names.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, we’re all busy college students, so read the script on your own and listen to the recordings of the score that Bernie emailed you yesterday. We’ll spend the rest of the time taking measurements for costumes. Oh, and Hilda’s hosting a mixer at her place this weekend so we can all get to know each other a bit better, so we’ll send the details out for that soon. Any questions?” Sylvain says far too energetically for a Monday afternoon. Cyril raises his hand. “Yes? Cyril?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When were you going to tell us you were hosting a party at our place, Hilda?” Cyril asks, scowling almost as menacingly as Felix, except he’s much shorter, so he looks like a petulant child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, now you know,” Hilda says with a wink, and Cyril rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If there’s no more questions, I’d like everyone to line up against the wall so I can measure you,” Mercedes says, jumping to her feet. Her tone is sweet, but there’s this underlying firmness that compels everyone to obey her immediately. Ingrid stands up and follows everyone to the back wall, ending up near the back of the line. While she’s waiting, she begins to flip through the script, skimming each page.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes land on the center of a page, around three-fourths of the way through the script, and her heart skips a beat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sir Cedric and Sir Cecil passionately embrace, and then, they kiss</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...Ingrid is going to kill Sylvain.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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